“I know everybody’s in shock. I am, too,” Dante said. Behind him loomed The Rorschach Explorer, its fuselage glowing under the dim, generator-powered hangar lights. “It’s hard to wrap my mind around what’s going down outside, but I’m going to tell you what I know.
“There’s a bunch of armed American soldiers outside. They’ve disabled our communications and cut our main power. The generator’s working, but it only has fuel to last a few days, assuming we shut down everything nonessential. We have no way of communicating with anyone outside, and as you know, those who’ve tried to go outside have been shot at or taken prisoner. They don’t seem interested in talking, so I don’t know what the end game is here, but we don’t want to risk anyone else getting hurt.”
Dante paused and looked in the crowd for Kiera. He spotted her in the back standing alongside Ajay. She locked eyes on him and mouthed, “Do it.” Dante responded with a nod and then scanned the larger group.
“We think they’ve come because we found an old U.S. spaceship on a moon of Jupiter yesterday, and they don’t want that information getting out,” Dante said. He paused again. “I’ll be straight up with you…we also found something else. Something we can’t explain. A building of some sort, we don’t know what it is, but we don’t think the government wants that out either. So, they’ve come to stop us from any more snooping around.
“You guys aren’t part of the snooping, so I don’t want you mixed up in anything that happens from here on out. A few of us are going to try to get word out about what’s going on, but we want to make sure the rest of you get out safely first. We’re going to put up signs at the front entrance telling them we’re surrendering, but we want assurance that everyone will be safe from—”
“Screw that!” a voice in the crowd yelled.
“Yeah!” said another.
“No way!” came the cry from a third.
“They shot Mr. Amato!”
“And Chief Eller!”
Defiant comments and angry chants popped up from all quarters. Dante tried to settle the emotional outbursts, but the group was having none of it. Mark stepped forward and held up his hand, pleading for quiet. The mob quickly settled down for Amato’s assistant. He turned to Dante and took hold of his shoulder. “I’m not leaving. None of us are.”
Raucous assents echoed throughout the hangar. Dante looked at Mark. “You sure?”
“We are.” He smiled.
“Okay,” Dante said. “In that case, let’s get to work.”
U.S. Air Force C-17
Mayaguana Airport
Mayaguana Island, The Bahamas
Augustus Arturo Amato’s eyes fluttered open. Overhead, he saw the arcing frame of the aircraft’s cargo bay. Darting his eyes to the left and right, he saw men wearing surgical masks and heard frantic calls for adrenaline and epinephrine. He felt nothing, not the pounding of fists on his chest nor the syringes thrusting into the soft tissue below his sternum.
He tried to speak but the oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose muffled his groaning mumbles. Closing his eyes, Amato’s mind began to fill with memories. At first, they whisked by at incredible speed. Snippets of his childhood, of his family, of friends and favorite moments raced through his psyche. As the memories began to slow and his mind’s eye darkened, he tried to cry out, pleading for God’s mercy.
The last image to grace his consciousness was Christmas morning, 1944. In his hands, he held a Flash Gordon Rocket Fighter spaceship. His parents had bought the used 1939 red-and-yellow toy from a flea market and presented it as a gift from Santa Claus. It was dented and scratched, but Amato hadn’t cared. He had raced around the living room as if he were Flash Gordon himself, fending off Ming the Merciless on planet Mongo. As the vision faded, Amato felt a rush of exhilaration and joy…
Oval Office, The White House
Washington, D.C.
Defense Secretary Elliott Zimmer and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Major General Albert Oxley, entered the Oval Office. Accompanying them were eight Secret Service agents from the president’s personal protection detail. Waiting for them were President Jennings, Shaw and the president’s chief of staff, Danielle Hawkins. Jennings locked eyes with Zimmer. “You fuckhead. I gave you a direct fucking order! No shooting!”
Zimmer made no attempt to reply. He stood next to Oxley, bracketed by the Secret Service agents, looking as if he were in search of a spittoon to eject a wad of chaw.
“You’re fired, you dumb shit!” Jennings railed. Zimmer maintained a stolid expression as Jennings turned to Oxley. “You too.”
After the Secret Service agents hustled the ousted Pentagon officials from the room, Hawkins asked Jennings if she should summon the vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs and the DoD chief management officer, the next two executives in the Pentagon chain of command.
“Not yet. I’m C-in-C. I’ll give the orders for now. Zimmer and Oxley may have poisoned the well,” Jennings said. He turned to Shaw. “We still have an open line to Major Kitt at Mayaguana, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Shaw said. “I spoke to him right before I came up.”
“Good. And he’s pulling his men back as ordered?” Jennings asked.
“He is. We’ve got video and audio feeds again. I heard him give the command,” Shaw said.
“And Amato. What’s the latest?”
Shaw hesitated. “It’s not looking good, I’m afraid. If he has another heart attack before he gets to a cardiac care unit, I’m told he won’t make it.”
“God damn that Zimmer!” Jennings growled. He turned to Hawkins. “Where’s Warner?”
“He’s waiting in my office,” she said.
“Get him in here. We need to find out if Zimmer poisoned him, too.”
Hangar No.1
A3rospace Industries Command and Control Center
Mayaguana Island, The Bahamas
Dante shifted the bow of the CUBE’s girth underneath his arm. Turning back to look at Ajay, who gripped the stern of the CUBE in both hands, Dante said, “Ready?”
“Roger that,” Ajay said.
Through the headset microphone bumping against his lips, Dante said, “FAO, handing off Flight to you. Make me proud. CUBE-COM out.”
Kiera’s fingers rattled over the keyboard of her laptop as she replied through her own headset. “Copy, CUBE-COM. Good luck!”
Outside the building, the SEALs who had parachuted inside the fenced-in compound to disable the facility’s communications and power had been ordered by the newly installed SECDEF to abandon their positions and retreat to the makeshift command post beyond the main gate. Had the external security cameras mounted around the complex been operational, the security staff inside the building would have spotted the soldiers moving away, but the SEALs had disabled the cameras as soon as the backup generator restored power to the facility.
The SEALs were in the process of making their way to the gate when Kiera began station checks. “Security ops, report.”
“SOP ready, Flight.”
“Drone fleet command?”
“DFC ready, Flight.”
“Boost?”
“We are go, Flight.”
“Roger that. SOP, kill the lights and open Hangar number one blast doors,” Kiera said.
A Marine sentry posted behind the truck barricade at the main gate notified the command post, “Vanguard, Alpha team, lights just went out.”
The sudden dousing of the building’s external lights also caught the attention of the SEALs still inside the compound. Instinctively, they hit the ground and sought cover. Tugging night-vision goggles into place, they turned toward the building, searching for signs of activity.
Outside the fences, teams of Marines had fanned out to take positions around the full perimeter of the compound. They donned night-vision goggles as well.
“DFC, you are go for drone MES,” Kiera said.
“Roger that, Flight. MES in three…two…one…Flight, we have drone MES.”
A whir of sou
nd a hundred times louder than any swarm of bees filled the bay.
“Copy, DFC. SOP, open Hangar-1 main doors. Boost, move your payloads into position behind drones.”
“Affirmative, Flight,” replied Boost. “Payloads in position.”
“Flight, Hangar number one is open,” said the security office team leader.
“Copy, SOP,” Kiera said. “Boost and CUBE-COM, prepare to follow drones out Hangar number one,” Kiera said. After they acknowledged receipt, Kiera ordered the drone fleet commander to launch.
“Roger, Flight,” came the reply. The lead drone thrust through the hangar opening. Eleven companion drones followed in rapid succession. “Birds away.”
“Boost, CUBE-COM, go!” Kiera commanded.
At the Marine outpost observing the hangars, the team leader spotted the doors opening and reported to the command post. “Vanguard, Fox team leader. A hangar door is opening; we see activity inside. Hold on…something’s happening…Vanguard, we have bogeys in the air!”
“Fox team, what kind of bogeys?” asked the command post.
“Drones…headed your way. Wait, there’s more going on…”
“Report, Fox team. What’s happening?”
“Vanguard, we have a tractor hauling something out. Something big.” After a pause, the Fox team leader added, “Looks like a big R2-D2.”
“A what?”
“You know, R2-D2, the robot from that movie,” the Fox team leader said. “Vanguard, tractor just set down the object. It’s driving away fast. The hangar doors are closing. Request permission to engage tractor?”
“Negative, Fox team. Hold where you—”
“Vanguard! Alpha team! We have incoming!”
Blades roaring, the V formation of drones passed over the prone SEALs and turned toward the truck barricade. The lead drone zeroed in on the three trucks blocking the compound entrance and the twenty soldiers positioned behind the vehicles. The drone fleet commander, watching the action on his console monitor via the night-vision camera of the lead drone, pressed forward on the remote-control joystick and the V dropped lower, zooming ahead at full speed.
“LDV ready for MES,” reported Boost.
“Roger, Boost,” Kiera said. “CUBE-COM, are you clear?”
Dante, gripping a handhold on the side of the tractor with one hand, clutched the front section of CUBE-COM against his torso with his other arm. He looked back at Ajay, who grimaced as he fought to hold onto the back end of the CUBE while clinging to another of the tractor’s handholds. “As clear as we’re going to get,” Dante replied.
“Roger, CUBE-COM,” Kiera said. “Boost, you are go for LDV MES.”
Dante called for the tractor driver to halt. As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, he and Ajay jumped down, and together with the driver, the three men huddled behind the tractor and waited for the fireworks to begin.
In the center of the launch apron, a low rumble was accompanied by an orange glow beneath the CUBE launch delivery vehicle. Random expletives spilled from the Fox team Marines as their leader ordered a retreat from their position. As he joined them, he yelled into his radio. “Vanguard, they’re launching a rocket!”
The news arrived at the command post just as the drone fleet buzzed above the trucks. In looping circles, DFC swooped the drones to scatter the soldiers, including those at the command post. The radio chatter among the Marines, SEALs and their commanders was muted by the ground-shaking roar coming from behind the building.
Absent the LDV’s accompanying high-altitude balloon, Amato’s team used the vehicle’s outer two stages as a makeshift platform for the ground launch of the final, innermost stage. As the final stage’s engine built up momentum, the LDV began to wobble. Kiera gave the command to launch and the domed inner stage shot upward.
A fireball filled the night sky as the solitary engine of the final stage propelled it above the building. Stunned by the thunderous contrail, the eyes of the Marines and SEALs not under attack by the drones drifted upward to watch the ascent.
As soon as the rocket cleared the building, Dante and Ajay took off, jostling the CUBE as they ran. The tractor driver hopped back into the tractor and sped back toward the hangar. Dante and Ajay stumbled across the sand beyond the launch apron until they reached a weed-encroached, abandoned runway.
With the backpack hauling his laptop banging against his spine, Dante veered to the right. There, in the distance, lit by the glow of the rising LDV, Dante spied the most famous of NASA’s artifacts on the island, the nose cone of an old Thor missile. It had been retrieved from the ocean in 1960, a year after crashing into the ocean. Its camera had snapped the first color photograph of Earth from space.
In the middle of the runway, Dante called back to Ajay. “Here. Stop.”
Huffing and puffing, the two men lowered the CUBE to the broken concrete. Dante pulled off the backpack. Above, the streaking arc of light headed for the black over the Atlantic. Hands shaking, Dante yanked out the laptop while Ajay readied the CUBE’s Ku-band radio cable. Once connected, Dante used the laptop to calibrate the dish to the proper direction and azimuth and then opened the program to access A3I’s network.
In Mission Control, Kiera gave the command to cut power to the LDV’s engine. Seconds later the fireball extinguished and the domed stage began to tumble toward the ocean. As she watched the feed from the lead drone on the center screen of Mission Control’s wall monitors, she called to Dante. “CUBE-COM, how’re you doing out there?”
After an anxious, static-filled wait, Dante’s voice cycled through the headsets of all in attendance. “Mission accomplished.”
19: ON THE WINGS OF ANGELS
Orlando International Airport
Orlando, Florida
November 1, 2018
Morgan was in the private aviation terminal catching up with Bobby Davenport and Don Chu when the copilot of Amato’s plane dashed through the jetway door calling Morgan’s name. Between gasps for breath, the captain said, “Come. Quick!”
“What’s the matter?” Morgan asked.
“There’s a problem at Mayaguana. A big one,” the copilot said. He motioned Morgan toward the jetway. “Come on, please. Hurry!”
“Uh-oh, must be UMOs,” Morgan said. He turned to Davenport and Chu. “Come on, fellas, let’s go.”
As the three former NASA men boarded the plane, the captain emerged from the cockpit with his cell phone. He handed it to Morgan and said, “Read the message. Ascension Station flight director is holding on our SAT phone. He wants to speak with you after you finish.”
Morgan took a seat in the Gulf Stream’s main cabin and scanned the email header. It was a forwarded message from Dante to the company’s chief operating officer. The message read:
Mayaguana attacked by U.S. military. Comms out. Unable to reach CUBE fleet. Contacted Ascension and transferred fleet control. A3 has been shot and taken away. Repeat, A3 has been shot. We don’t know where he’s been taken or anything about his condition. Need someone to find out ASAP. Also need to get word to Col. Morgan ASAP.
“Holy smokes,” Morgan said.
The pilot handed the plane’s satellite phone to Morgan. “Dr. Rashid at Ascension.”
The Ascension center’s flight director wasted no time on pleasantries. “Listen, we’ve got a real problem here. Someone’s jamming our tracking satellite. Given what’s going on at Mayaguana, we assume it’s Space Command.”
As Rashid detailed his efforts to establish an alternative connection with the SatFleet, Morgan grappled with the unexpected news. Clearly, the military doesn’t capriciously attack American civilian installations in friendly foreign countries or jam commercial satellites. And they surely don’t undertake such measures without authorization from above. There was only one explanation to account for the hostile acts — the Pentagon knew about their discovery of Cetus Prime. And the only way they could know about that was if they’d seen the photographs. Morgan mumbled, “My God, they’ve been watching the whole ti
me.”
Rashid, in the midst of describing his efforts to secure radio telescope time through a co-op network, said, “Sorry, what’s that?”
“Space Command. They hacked our transmissions,” Morgan said.
“I suppose that’s possible,” Rashid said.
“Oh, it’s more than possible. They did it for sure,” Morgan said. “Are you up to speed on the fleet’s mission?”
“Somewhat.”
“Have you seen the photos we downlinked this morning?”
“I have.”
“Well, I’d say our government has, too, and they didn’t like what they saw,” Morgan said. “How soon can you get a comms workaround in place?”
“That’s what I was trying to talk to you about,” Rashid said. “I don’t think we can get it done before CUBE-2’s mission. We’ll keep trying but we’re running out of options.”
He told Morgan the company was a member of two radio telescope network cooperatives, and both networks were amenable to providing telescope time. However, the earliest available time slot wasn’t for several days. “I’ve told them it’s an emergency, but I can only push so hard.”
The telescope co-ops were primarily utilized by scientists engaged in deep space research projects, and there was more demand for telescope time than hours in a day. As such, slots were booked well in advance and research teams who’d waited months for their turns were not about to give up their slots at the last second.
Rashid told Morgan he’d been authorized by A3I’s COO to offer compensation to any researchers willing to give up their overnight slots, but Rashid could only make the request to the managers of the cooperatives; he had no way of reaching the individual researchers and it was considered bad form to contact the telescope observatories directly. “If the co-op managers find out about it, they’ll knock us offline and boot us from the co-op.”
As Morgan listened to Rashid, he weighed the situation. The inability to communicate with the fleet would not impinge on CUBE-2’s mission, as Dante had transmitted the flight plan instructions through CUBE-11 hours ago. So, the blackout just meant there would be a delay in downlinking the data passed by CUBE-2 to CUBE-11 after the mission was complete.
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